An Irresistable Temptation
by Greenstuff
Summary: Mary takes her vacation time, Marshall makes a decision   SPOILERS: all of Season 3   COMPLETE!
1. Part I: Vacation

**An Irresistible Temptation**

A/N: My attempt at a realistic post-finale storyline.

**Part I: Vacation **

Despite her earlier protestations, Mary quickly found that she definitely was the vacation type. At least the adults-only all-inclusive kind where all you can eat and drink is delivered by sexy Mexican cabana boys while you lounge by the pool or on a hot sunny beach. Today, day nine of her fourteen day stay at the Temptations Resort & Spa in sunny Cancun, she lay on a lounge chair at the edge of one of the resorts pools, cold margarita in hand, looking out over the too-blue water of the pool on to the even bluer ocean beyond. She took a long sip of the icy drink and sighed in contentment.

This second week of vacation she was flying solo. Faber had been called back to Denver two days earlier, she was a little surprised how very little she missed him. She'd become used to dealing with sexual frustration during her off-again-more-than-on-again relationship with Raph and other than a disregard for rules and a bucket of sexual tension, she'd quickly learned she and Faber had little in common.

And so, she was looking forward to spending the last few days of vacation completely alone. As long as she never saw the bottom of her glass.

Somewhere at the bottom of the glass lived a collection of questions and a pair of wounded blue eyes she wished she could shove from her mind forever. _Maybe messy is what you need_. She took a huge gulp of Margarita, regretting it instantly as brain freeze shot pain from sternum to temple, and raised her hand for a cabana boy.

"Señorita?"

"Another." She said tersely, one hand attempting to rub away the pain in her chest the other holding up the half empty glass.

"Of course."

She settled back into her chair and focused on the warmth of the summer sun on her skin. In half an hour she would be too hot to stay here, but for now the warmth was perfect. It sank into her skin easing away the icy combination of brain freeze and unwanted thoughts.

Mary ate dinner alone in the Villa Wok restaurant. She requested a table by the window and spent most of the meal watching a pair of windsurfers playing in the waves. This was her favourite of the resorts four restaurants. The Asian faire was delicious and the atmosphere was less stiflingly romantic than the Italian restaurant with its candle lit interior and cascading waterfall. Still the intimate way the tables were arranged made her briefly wish she had someone across from her.

At the very least it would have been nice to have someone there to appreciate the effort it had taken to change from pool wear to something that fit the restaurant's dress code. The complicated criss-cross straps of the bright blue, backless, sundress she'd picked up at the local market last week had taken nearly ten minutes to sort out, and she'd even blown her hair straight and applied a little lipstick and mascara. It was a shame to look this good without someone there to appreciate it.

She'd only dressed up once while Faber was there, they'd dined in the Italian restaurant their first night before they learned that room service would happily bring full meals to their suite. She'd worn a red dress Brandi had picked out. She hadn't liked it much, but Faber said she looked hot and was only too happy to rip it off in their room after dinner was over.

Cell phones were not encouraged in the restaurant, but when Mary's purse vibrated she practically lunged to check the caller ID. There was one text message, from an unknown number. She opened it.

_Kitten,_

_Crisis over. Thought I'd join you for the rest of the week. See you Friday. _

_F_

Mary rolled her eyes. Even threats of bodily harm hadn't dissuaded Faber from using that ridiculous nickname. She couldn't help smiling at the way he'd invited himself back down for the last three nights of her vacation. She didn't really mind. He was a great distraction, the perfect let off valve for the pressure she'd been feeling since she'd been shot. Neat, clean and fun. Exactly what she needed.

_You don't need to let off steam; what you need is –_

She told the voice in her head to shut up. For good measure she sent Faber a return message.

_Bring another bottle of that wine and I'll even let you sleep over. _

Mary regretted the fish tacos almost immediately. They tasted fishy, and though she didn't understand it she remembered Marshall warning her that seafood that tasted fishy was best left uneaten. Once again her partner was right. She wondered if he had ever been wrong in his life.

_Maybe instead of just anyone you should be looking for… someone._

Well, no one could be right all the time. Not even Marshall.

It wasn't until hours after she devoured four fish tacos in a row at a street market in downtown Cancun that she actually felt sick. She'd been so hungry from a day of sightseeing and picking up gifts for herself, her friends and her family that she would have eaten more if Faber hadn't made some snide comment about ten thousand calories having to go somewhere to die.

She leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the hotel toilet and groaned. She'd already thrown up the entire content of her stomach in the ladies room off the hotel lobby on their way in from the day trip. Since returning to the hotel she'd mostly wretched without producing anything and felt a little like she wanted to die.

Mary wondered if it was safe to return to bed. Faber's snores assured her the man had managed to sleep through her gastrointestinal gymnastics. For which she was grateful. The sex was good, and he wasn't terrible to be around, but he was still one of the last people she wanted taking care of her.

Her stomach calm for the moment, Mary rose slowly to her feet, rinsed out her mouth, ran a toothbrush over her teeth, her fifth attempt to get rid of the regurgitated fish taco taste out of her mouth and tiptoed into the bedroom. She climbed carefully into bed, lay on her side facing away from Faber and tried to sleep.

She woke up six hours later, her stomach still protesting the mistreatment from the day before, her mouth fuzzy and foul tasting. She rolled slowly to her feet, no sudden movements until she was sure vomit palooza was over. Her eyes landed on a half-eaten breakfast tray on the end of the bed and a note propped against the coffee carafe. She grabbed the note. Faber's scratchy writing took up less than half the sheet.

_Kitten,_

_Gone to the sports pool. Meet me at the snack bar at 12 for lunch. _

_F_

She stared incredulously at the note for a moment before crumpling it and tossing it back onto the tray. True he'd slept all through the time she spent trying to throw up last night, but he'd known she wasn't feeling hot. Was it too much to expect that he'd at least check on her before heading down for a morning pool workout?

She grabbed a piece of dry whole wheat toast off the breakfast tray and left the rest. Food did not appeal, but she needed something to quell the acidic churning in her stomach. Still munching on toast she began to fill the Jacuzzi tub with steaming hot water and gathering clothing for the day.

They were flying back to the US tomorrow morning at 11 AM so most of today would be spent packing up her things, but first she was going to enjoy a long soak in the Jacuzzi and hope the hung-over feeling of food poisoning would leave before then.

_How many times did he have to say it? How many different ways? _

Marshall cradled his aching head. Most of a bottle of whiskey had dulled the ache for a night, but this morning he was paying for the momentary relief this morning with a pounding skull and nausea.

_Some vacation. _

Mary was on a tropical beach somewhere, probably with the cowboy she thought she needed. He knew better. Or he thought he did.

She'd changed so much in the last year. Her family was finally moving on, he had hoped she was ready to do so too. He'd been wrong.

So wrong. And the ache of it was worse than any hangover.

He'd pushed, just little, and once again she'd bolted like a scared horse, right back into her burning barn. Only Mary's burning barn was filled with tequila, and the wrong sort of men. It was where she felt safe, just this side of chaos, beyond the reaches of heartache and broken promises. The place where empty lives burn hot and fast until there is nothing left.

He wanted so much to lead her out of the self destructive path she gravitated towards, blind to the dangers, but whenever he thought they were close she pushed him away with both hands.

It was almost enough to send him headlong back into the bottle. But another alcoholic was the last thing Mary needed in her life, so instead he rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered into a frigid shower.

It was time to move on. He was almost certain that if he set his mind to it he could actually do it. It was worth a shot anyway.


	2. Part II: Coming Home

**Part II: Coming Home**

Mary took a taxi from the airport to her still-family-free home. She'd dialled Marshall's number out of habit but stopped herself before she hit send. She wasn't ready to see her partner, and she was almost certain he wouldn't want to see her. She'd managed to push their last conversation from her mind for most of her vacation, but now she was home and reality was rearing its ugly head, forcing her to think.

The cabbie helped carry her bags to the front step, Mary was too tired to protest, or to fish exact change from her purse. The man gladly accepted the twenty she tossed him and wished her a wonderful day.

"Yeah, right." Mary muttered in response. If he noticed the bitterness in her tone he was too polite to let on.

She muscled her bags into Jinx's old bedroom, nothing in them that couldn't wait a few days to be unpacked, and headed straight for her bedroom. A nice long shower and then sleep, that was all she wanted.

In one week she would return to work, but until them she was going to soak up as much leisure time as humanly possible. Lots of sleep and pool time, and most importantly, she wasn't going to think about anything at all.

The last week of Mary's vacation flew by. The No Thinking plan worked surprisingly well and she was able to enjoy a week of shopping with Brandi, swimming in her backyard pool and devouring a stack of dusty novels she'd been meaning to read for years. Whenever Marshall's voice penetrated the fog of happy ignorance she reminded it her family was about all the _messy_ a person could handle.

Her first day back at work Mary left home an hour earlier than normal with half a mind to grab the files for her witnesses and spend the rest of the day out doing house calls. Usually a chore she left for Marshall or avoided altogether, but it sounded better than sitting in the office all day surrounded by all the thoughts she'd been avoiding for weeks.

She was surprised to see Marshall already seated at his desk filling out a stack of paperwork. "How was vacation?" He asked without looking up.

"Nice." Mary answered shooting him a puzzled look. "Any crises while I was away?"

"No."

When he didn't continue Mary sank into her desk chair and powered up her computer. The silence of the office was broken only by the sound of her computer booting up. It was foreign and awkward. Even when she'd been brand new to WITSEC she and Marshall had never been quiet for long.

"Look Marshall," she paused and licked her suddenly dry lips, "I'm... sorry about..." she paused again, her brain searching frantically for the right words and coming up empty, "before. I –"

"It's fine." Marshall cut her off.

"But—"

"Seriously Mary, it was three weeks ago. Don't worry about it."

The 'Mary' jolted her as much as the cool detached tone of his voice. He hardly ever called her Mary, not when it was just the two of them. When he did there was a warmth to his voice that today was completely absent. _What have I done?_ She fought a surge of panic. Where was her best friend and who was this semi-formal imposter sitting at his desk? She wanted to shake him, slap him, do something to snap him out of it and bring back her quick witted, often verbose partner.

Somehow she didn't think violence would actually help in this situation, so she tried a lighter tactic. "Want to grab a drink after work?"

Still Marshall failed to meet her eyes. "Sorry, I have a date."

Four weeks ago Mary would have teased him about this, pushing for details and making slurs against his sexuality. Today the news sank in her stomach like lead. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"It's only our third date." Marshall replied, his tone casual.

_Third date?_ Mary was stunned. Not only was Marshall dating, but he had to have started dating this woman not long after she left. Suddenly she felt incredibly foolish.

_Someone who challenges you. Who calls you on your BS, 'n gets in your face,'n makes you think…. _

Of course he hadn't meant himself. Marshall was her best friend, he'd seen her at her very worst and at her best – which most days was on par with other people's worst – of course he didn't mean _he_ was the someone.

And why did it matter anyway? It wasn't like Mary loved Marshall that way. Right? They were friends. She cared about him deeply, but as a friend.

So why did she feel like the world was collapsing around her because Marshall had a date?

The rest of the day was a blur. Marshall was pleasant, but distant. Stan was out leaving just the two of them with a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.

Handling his own witnesses along with Mary's had stretched Marshall a little thin and even he hadn't been able to keep up. Mary's plans to spend the day out in the fresh air visiting witnesses crumbled as soon as she realized Marshall had been pulling 18 hour shifts in an attempt to keep up with the constant stream of paper that went along with the more interesting parts of the job.

In a near desperate bid to regain her equilibrium, Mary handed Marshall a ten dollar bill and sent him on a coffee run while she sorted through the pile of paper and moved all that pertained to her witnesses to her desk. She used the time until he returned to stuff her unwanted feelings deep into the box labelled _don't _touch, somewhere between her father's abandonment and her brief marriage to Mark, and by filling out what she could of his paperwork, returning to her own only when she heard the elevator doors sliding open.

It was after seven when she staggered into her house, a bag of takeout in one hand. She pulled a cold beer from the fridge and collapsed on her couch to devour a lukewarm cheese burger and fries. She had a headache and her wrist ached from the long hours filling out forms. Half an hour later she was fast asleep.

When Marshall set his mind to something he did it wholeheartedly. He'd told himself in the second week of Mary's vacation that he needed to move on, for real, for good. The next day he secured a date with a pretty brunette names Sarah from his mambo classes.

Their first date was unremarkable. Marshall was too busy fighting, mostly without success, his tendency to compare all women to Mary to really get to know her. Sarah was superior to Mary in several ways, mental and emotional stability near the top of the list, but her sweet openness felt wrong to a man used to loving the human equivalent of a Cholla Opuntia Bigelovii. They'd made it through dinner and a movie and he'd even received a gentle goodnight kiss on the cheek from his date.

He dreamt of Mary that night after he dropped Sarah off at her condo. In the morning he called Sarah and arranged a second date. This time instead of a quiet dinner they would hit the countryside on horseback, a love of Marshall's that was completely lost on Mary. _If I wanted to walk bowlegged for the rest of the day, I can think of a more fun way to get there. _

Sarah was a better horsewoman than Marshall had expected and they had a ton of fun exploring the country side. When he dropped her off he initiated the goodnight kiss, this time on the lips.

The night after the second date, he dreamt of the wild desert and coyotes, and of Mary.

Tonight they would have their third date. Dinner again, and dancing. If it went well Marshall hoped the starring role in his dreams might belong to a new face, one who wouldn't break his heart.

In her dream Mary was once again in the Mexican hotel room. She was wearing the strappy blue dress she'd bought at the market with Faber and there was a bottle of champagne and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on a room service cart near the balcony.

She poured a glass of champagne and picked up a strawberry, bringing both out into the warm evening air. The sound of a shower running suddenly ceased and Mary expected Faber to enter at any moment. She bit into the strawberry and relished the sweet flavour.

Strong arms circled her waist and Mary leaned back against a damp, lean chest. His hot mouth pressed a line of open mouthed kisses along her neck and she hummed in pleasure.

Mary turned within the circle of his arms and met his mouth with her own. The kiss was passionate, unfamiliar and yet so very _right_. When she pulled away for breath she saw the face of her paramour for the first time.

"Marshall?"

Mary sat up with a start. "Oh sweet Jesus."


	3. Part III: Messy

**Part III: Messy**

Mary didn't know what she was doing here. Ok, she knew, but she could barely believe it. It was a little past eleven and she was standing on Marshall's front porch, too scared to knock, too afraid to turn back now.

Ridiculous. That's what this was. And selfish. But she had to try.

His words had followed her to Mexico, taunted her through her time with Faber, and now Marshall was dating. If she didn't move now he would be gone for good.

Taking a deep breath Mary knocked.

"Did you want to come up for a drink before you head home?" Sarah smiled warmly at him.

Marshall shook his head, "Sorry. Early morning tomorrow." _And I am still in love with Mary_ his traitorous mind added.

She looked a little disappointed. "Ok. Call me?"

He nodded. They exchanged a brief goodnight kiss before Marshall climbed back into his SUV. The night had been a success. Sarah was as sweet as she had seemed on their first date and quite a dancer. If only he could shut up the voice in his head, the one that sounded suspiciously like his mother, from pointing out the million ways Sarah wasn't Mary, he could even see a long term relationship developing.

For tonight he would take the small victory of a fun third date and continue to block out the voice in his head. If he tried hard enough he knew he could train himself to move on. And if tonight was any indication he might even have some fun along the way.

He pulled into his driveway a few minutes before midnight. He was tired and didn't notice the blonde camped out on his front steps until he was practically on top of her.

"Mare?"

Mary raised her head slowly, the faint glow from the streetlights highlighted damp tear tracks on both cheeks. "Marshall?"

"What's wrong?" Mary was not a crier. If she was crying on his porch it was something devastating. His chest felt tight and he fought the urge to pull her into his embrace. She didn't want him, if he was going to survive that reality he had to keep his distance.

"I screwed everything up."

He waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't he told her to come in and led the way to his living room.

Mary sat in her usual place on his couch. She looked worse in the full light inside. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her hair was unbrushed and stuck up in weird peaks along the left side of her part and she was still wearing the same blouse she'd spilt coffee on that morning.

"Is it Brandi? Or Jinx?" He prompted, hoping to get her to explain what was wrong so he could fix it and get her out of there before he lost his willpower completely.

"Not them. It's…" Mary said shaking her head. She took a deep shuddering breath, "It's us."

For a moment the silence was absolute. Marshall wasn't even sure his heart was still beating, he'd certainly lost the ability to breathe. After too long he found his voice, "What about _us_, Mare?"

"I had it all wrong. I thought-" she looked up at him for a quick second and then fastened her eyes on her hands where they twisted in her lap, "I thought if there was an 'us' I would lose _us_. But I've lost _us_ anyway and I think I've lost you too."

"You haven't lost me, Mare. I'm right here." Marshall told his treacherous heart to beat normally, but it wouldn't listen. In her way Mary was saying everything he'd ever wanted to hear. _Is it enough?_

Mary truly met his eyes for the first time that night. She seemed to be searching for something in them, rejection? forgiveness? acceptance? He wasn't sure which.

"Really?" She chewed uncertainly on her lower lip.

Marshall steeled himself against the rare vulnerability in her eyes and forced himself to keep his tone neutral. "We're partners. That isn't going to change. I'll always have your back."

"That's not—" Mary covered her face with both hands in frustration. Why didn't she have the words to tell this man what she wanted? Did she even know what she wanted? "I mean..."

Marshall purposefully focused on a spot above Mary's head and counted to ten. He didn't know what to say. For the second time in a year Mary had said something that drove a spike of hope through his vocal chords leaving him mute and on the brink of agony and ecstasy all at once.

After several beats of silence Mary gathered the courage to say something she had never thought before he had pointed out the error of her ways three weeks earlier. "I already trust you with my life, I want to trust you with my heart."

Marshall closed his eyes and commanded his hear to be still. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, unwilling – unable – to see the pain in her eyes. "I would never intentionally hurt you, Mare, but—" He sighed, "It's been a long day and I need to think about this."

Mary rose too quickly from the couch, and her voice when she spoke was thick with hurt, "I'm sorry, Marshall. I shouldn't have come."

Before he could respond she was out the door and in less than a minute he heard her Mustang rumble to life.

Marshall sank onto the couch and tried to sort out the rush of thoughts in his head. He didn't have a lot of time. He _knew_ Mary, sometimes better than he knew himself, and if she told herself he had rejected her she would slam the door on the possibility of _them_ forever.

Mary made it three blocks before she had to pull over. She couldn't breathe, there was an icy fist squeezing her heart so hard she thought it might burst like a party balloon. She pulled the mustang onto the shoulder and let the tears flow. It was nearly twenty minutes before she was able to pull herself together enough to drive the rest of the way to her house.

She was stuck somewhere between self loathing and hope. It was unbearable.

But what had she expected? Honestly, that Marshall would tell her he was the one for her, followed by hot sex. Which was probably not very realistic she admitted with a rueful half smile.

At least he hadn't said no. Not outright. He'd said he needed to think. Which was fair. It had taken her seven years to clue in to her feelings for him, she couldn't fault him for wanting time for thought. Mary groaned. It was all logical, but the sick feeling in her stomach that told her she'd ruined everything was past listening to logic.

She pulled a bottle of whiskey out of its hiding place in the bathroom cupboard, behind the toilet paper – one of the places she'd hoped Jinx wouldn't accidentally find it. She didn't bother with a glass, just unscrewed the cap and brought the entire bottle with her into the back yard.

It was time to stop thinking.

For once, Marshall didn't think for long.

Logically he knew he was better off moving on. Mary was damaged goods, she was always sarcastic and occasionally cruel – though he didn't think she meant to be – and she would inevitably crush his heart into tiny shards he may never be able to glue back together. Objectively, logically, they would never work.

But sometimes logic failed. Sometimes you needed to just 'let go and let God', to borrow a phrase he'd heard a hundred times in his conservative home town. This simple fact was this: Heart trumps logic.

It was trite, practically a bumper sticker. But it was also true.

Less than half an hour after Mary left his apartment Marshall was on her heels.

Screw logic. He'd been waiting seven years for Mary to wake up and see what was right in front of her. He'd be damned if he let her slip away.

The drive seemed to take forever. He hit every single light just as it was turning red and seemed to get stuck behind an inordinate number of senior citizens given the late hour. When he finally pulled into Mary's driveway the house was dark. He climbed out of the truck anyway.

He knocked loudly, waited a few seconds and knocked again. No one answered. He sized up Mary's porch warily, it did not look like a comfortable place to sleep.

_Sploosh_. The distinct sound of body hitting water directed him around the side of the house to the back yard. In the moonlight he could see a bottle of Whiskey on the table, and Mary's head bobbing in the water. He smiled but it came out more grimace than grin. They were quite the pair, both diving head first into a bottle of whiskey to numb heartache.

"Mare?" He called when he was still several yards away from the pool's edge. He assumed she was unarmed, but with Mary it was always better safe than sorry.

The head in the pool turned towards him but she didn't speak.

Closer now he could see that the whisky bottle was open, but nearly full. "Mare?" He tried again.

"What?" She watched him but made no move to swim closer to the edge.

"There's something I have to tell you..." He began, toeing off his boots and leaving them to lie haphazardly on the grass. "It's something I've wanted to say for years..." His button down shirt joined his boots. "But the timing was never quite right." His jeans joined the growing pile of clothing, leaving him in only a pair of blue race car boxer shorts.

With surprising ease for a man of his height he slipped into the pool with barely a sound. "And I didn't want to scare you away."

He was close enough now he could make out the features of Mary's face in the moonlight. Her mouth hung open just a little and her eyes were huge. He slowly brought his arms up until they grasped her forearms gently. He made sure she could easily escape his hold if she wanted.

"Because, you see, I am insanely, madly, uncontrollably in love with you." He took a step closer, he could feel the heat of her body through the cool water of the pool. "And I would like nothing better than to spend the rest of my life proving that fact."

Mary stepped forward into his arms, resting her cheek against his bare chest. He held her close and breathed in her scent.

"I love you too." Mary whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

He used one hand to gently tilt her face back so he could look into her eyes. "I meant what I said Mare, I will never intentionally hurt you."

She nodded. "I know."

"That doesn't mean it won't get messy."

"But maybe messy is what I need?"

"Brat."

"Idiot."

They were both smiling when their lips met. It was their second kiss in seven years but this time Mary didn't push him away. She pulled him closer.

It was a little messy. And it was everything they needed.


End file.
